Page 95 of His Lost Lycan Luna

"You won't hurt her," I tell him.

"Then what? I can't keep her either; I don't fucking want to look at Marrissa's spawn every damn second."

"Well, you can't keep her locked up in the fucking dungeons; I won't allow it."

"It isn't your choice, she is my mate, and I am fucking King!" he bellows.

"Right now, the only thing you are is a fucking idiot. Now, you need to pull yourself together. You need to see past who her mother was!" I snap at him when he growls, leaning forward on his seat.

His claws slip out, cutting into the leather upholstery, and I curse, knowing what he wants. He wants to forget, wants to drown himself with the bottle, and clearly, I'm not getting anywhere and need to hope Damian gets through to him because I can't.

"Promise me you won't do anything stupid. Promise you won't destroy your bond."

"I can't promise that," he says, and I grit my teeth.

"At least promise to speak with Damian before you do anything you will regret, Kyson. You're upset, and if you break the little trust you have built with her, you will regret it. You don't want to harm her!" I don't finish. He knows what will happen if he tries to kill her. We all took the same pact—a pact he made us take after losing his sister.

A pact that ensures his Queen's safety, no matter the circumstance. If his future mate's life is in danger, we are to choose her over him, every time, no matter what. If it comes to her and him, we take a bullet for her and let him die. We chose to take that pact, and he begged us to take it. That goes for him, too. He tries to kill her, and we will be forced to put him down to save her. He can order us to stand down. Technically, until he marks her, the pact won't be in full swing, not until his mark lies on her neck. Yet we will still honor it, knowing who she is to him.

"I promise I will speak to Damian first," Kyson tells me, and I suck in a breath of relief.

"You go straight to Damian. I want your word. You won't sneak off to your office. You won't look for her. Give me your word, Kyson, that you will go to him." He's furious, but he also knows I'm right. Damian is his calm place.

Those two are more like brothers who have some strange understanding. Kyson is like my brother, but those two are synced oddly. They are an extension of each other, being raised like brothers, enduring the same torment at the hands of Kyson's father. Damian is also the only one who, if I can't talk him down, Damian usually can.

"Fine, just give me the drink."

"I want to hear you say it."

"I will go straight to Damian, okay."

I sigh before I relent and pass him the bottle. He takes it, and I don't miss the tremble of his hands as he twists off the cap. Usually, that only happens the few times we try to get him sober. It never lasts long before we give up. His tremors are always terrible, and we hate seeing him like that. The King is an alcoholic, and everyone knows it, yet with Ivy, we see hope because it is apparent he tries not to drink himself into a stupor while with her.

ChapterFifty-Eight

IVY

All day, I work with Abbie around the castle. The place seems to be buzzing with excitement; it has me second-glancing at servants as they pass and whisper excitedly about something. Clarice is in an exceptional mood; we even caught her singing in the kitchen and dancing with the other cooks before she noticed me and ushered me out of the kitchen. Clarice even let Abbie choose her chores halfway through the day, so we spent it outside while throwing the leaves at each other, which led to more raking.

It’s the most fun we have had in ages. Both Dustin and Damian follow me like my shadow, but even Dustin and Beta Damian join when we have our leaf fight. It’s great spending the day with Abbie, but when Damian finishes mindlinking the King, he calls me over to him. I wander over, pulling leaves from my hair.

“My Queen, it is time to go in. I think a storm is coming, and you should come inside before it rains,” he states, turning all business-like again.

“Just a while longer, please?”

“I’m sorry, my Queen, I must insist. The King wants you in bed by 8 pm.,” he tells me.

“Fine, but stop calling me your queen,” I say, noticing his lips tug up in the corners.

“As you wish.”

I say goodbye to Abbie, feeling a little sad I must go. That sadness grows worse once back in the room. The King’s scent is everywhere, flooding my senses, and before I can stop myself, I dash to the bed, jump on it, and roll all over it. I roll myself up in the blanket, soaking up his scent, breathing it in. However, pain twinges in my chest that he isn’t here with me.

I’m still squirming and rolling across the bed like a madwoman when Beta Damian walks in with my dinner. I freeze, then growl at him, the noise threatening. It startles me and cuts off abruptly when I realize what I did.

“Sorry, Beta Damian,” I apologize quickly.

“You can call me Damian, Ivy, and don’t be. Kyson was worried you may fret without him. It must be hard to be away from him.” He places a food tray on the coffee table, yet I’m not hungry.

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